


Hands

by singswithtrees



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sappy, jagers should not be this cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singswithtrees/pseuds/singswithtrees
Summary: I would love to hear what you thought!  What would you like to see me write more of--smut, fluff, angst?  What was your favorite part, or a line that you think I ought to use in the future?  Please share--I dearly love feedback. <3





	

He hadn’t thought about what it might actually be like. The idea had been there for decades, sitting uncomfortably in the back of his mind. He hadn’t expected to ever give voice to it, let alone have it happen. Even now, after a couple of days had passed, just looking at Dimo was all that it took to bring back the sensations to his mind.

That his friend and lover could be so tender and careful still surprised him. Rough was still exciting, of course. It always would be. The screaming and the moaning in mixed pain and ecstasy as claws and fangs met flesh made the blood pulse quick and strong through his veins. Dimo could be forceful, and knew well how to use his entire body to make it clear that he was in control. That display of dominance, with its clear implications of possession, made him want to feel those cruelly clawed hands all over his body at once. But those fingers also possessed the nimbleness required to play the violin and to do delicate art when the mood struck him. Powerful either way, and especially so when they ran down Maxim’s back, or combed through his hair. There had been hints of such gentleness before, unexpected kisses or light touches that had always caught him off-guard. Such things had made him wonder whether there was perhaps more to their relationship than just the sex.

He wasn’t accustomed to so much of this, though. Affection had been a rare commodity in his childhood, and it hadn’t become any more common once the transformation occurred. He hadn’t needed it then. There had been camaraderie and the constant presence of the other Jagerkin, and that was enough for a while. Even if he had wanted it, he wouldn’t have dared to ask for it. It stayed inside, safe from where it would come out and he would be laughed at. When Dimo had come into his life, though, it had opened those thoughts up for further explanation. It left him feeling as though he wanted more eventually. But what more could he want? Dimo was there, after all, clearly wanted him just as badly as Maxim had desired him, and hadn’t gone away yet. That should have been enough.

It wasn’t. He’d marked Dimo time and again, hoping to have something in his life that wasn’t fleeting. Something that would be his and his alone, and that would stay. But something this good couldn’t possibly last. Dimo would find someone else, and Maxim would be left behind. Even before Dimo would touch him, Maxim knew that he would be left wanting more. Insatiable and possessive, he clung to the time that they had together, and continually wanted all of his lover's attention. That would show Dimo how much he mattered, right? It had to.

Now, after so long apart, they were together again. The initial reunion had been passionate, and a welcome interruption in the aftermath of Tira. And just when he hadn’t thought that things could get better, they had. Dimo seemed to have a peculiar talent for saying just the right thing at the right time, or at least trying to do so. It was more than just sex. Dimo both wanted him and needed him. Dimo, gruff and a bully on the outside, who was self-sufficient and hated to ask for help from anyone, needed him. He still had a hard time accepting that he was what Dimo had been searching for during that bitter time apart. There had been a hope of reunion, but his lover’s devotion amazed him, and made him wonder what he’d done to merit such a person in his life.

He’d never been good enough for his father. The vodka and the neglect had taught him that. It had ended at sword-point, but he’d never been able to shake that feeling. He had to prove himself to the world, to make it and the people in it see that he was worth something, even if he didn’t believe it himself. But no matter the accomplishments, he could still feel the sting of his father’s hand on his face. Pain and abuse he could take and give back again, but tenderness was a foreign concept.

To have Dimo's tough and calloused hands run along his skin so lightly that it scarcely felt that they were there was still strange. The way that Dimo looked at him when he thought that he wasn’t looking, the soft kisses when he least expected them, had made him feel daring. He’d told Dimo what he wanted, and then felt silly for it. But Dimo didn’t see that. Dimo took him seriously, and he still hadn’t managed to figure out what that made him feel. The emotion was still too fresh to identify, but it came whenever Dimo asked him that certain question that he’d asked Dimo.

Opening his eyes, he saw Dimo gazing at him with that look in his eyes again. It was bemused and gentle, and Dimo’s right hand reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes. A half-smile gracing his lips, Dimo whispered, “Can I make love to hyu, Maxim?”

“Yez,” Maxim replied after a pause. “Alvays yez.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you thought! What would you like to see me write more of--smut, fluff, angst? What was your favorite part, or a line that you think I ought to use in the future? Please share--I dearly love feedback. <3


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